Family Portrait
by amacma
Summary: Jack's POV before/after S3, inspired by 'The Hurt Locker' and the song 'Family Portrait'. Mainly Jack/Kim.


_Hi all,  
_ _this is a oneshot inspired by the movie 'The Hurt Locker' and Pink's song 'Family Portrait'.  
Jack's POV before/after S3  
_ _Hope you like it.  
_

* * *

As I woke up, lying on the dirty ground inside that shack, I was sure that my life had reached its end. The air was so hot that I didn't even realize that I was half naked and that my hands were still bound behind my back.

I had to wait a few minutes until my brain allowed the memories back into my consciousness. Some of the past days were an awful blur, of pain, of questioning, of drugs. Whenever I turned my head to look around I felt like I was getting sick any moment. I needed to have some more. My body demanded it and I knew I'd follow, just to keep functioning. And in the same moment I hated myself for what I had become. The physical need for the drug had changed me already, into somebody who I had never wanted to become.

I slowly rolled to the side to fumble the knot around my hands open. It was impossible. So I remained lying there, and I tried to think back.

The crook of my right arm hurt. I never shot up on the right side. It must have been something that they had given me last night. Something that must have made me talk… it was so hard to remember what had happened the night before, what I had told them when they questioned me. Becoming an addict made me believable – but at the same time it also increased the risk that I'd tell them something stupid.

One of them opened up the door to the shack and came over to me. It was Hector's right hand man, Hernandez. He untied me and even helped me stand up.

I could barely hold myself at my feet, stumbled over to the nearest table and held on to it. Then I saw the bruise in the crook of my right arm. They had probably forced a needle into my vein while I was still struggling. I would have never hurt myself in that way, had I tried to shoot up myself.

 _Shouldn't have doubted you, Jack,_ Hernandez said, almost appreciatively, patted on my shoulder and went away again, leaving me alone.

I tried even harder to think back what had happened.

They had questioned me, after getting suspicious I might be DEA.

And then I remembered that they had injected something- must have been some kind of a truth serum.

They asked me about my family. God, I even told them about Kim - that arguing with her so badly would once save my life… that made my nausea even worse.

* * *

 _Were you ever there for me?_

 _I was always there for you!_ I had come to her apartment - the one I still paid for her - just to say good bye before going to Mexico. What had I expected? That she'd be nice? That she'd understand me, even wish me luck?

She shook her head, in disbelief. _How blind are you? Stupid? You were never there, not one moment until I was 10. You were somewhere, everywhere but at home. You'd rather be in some hellhole country like Afghanistan or Iraq than be here with me. And now you wanna play the loving father, now that your guilt overwhelms you? You just want me to tell you everything is okay- but it isn't! It never was!_

I didn't know what to answer. Any other day I would have probably told her how sorry I was, but not that day, not being on such a high. My last fix had been just an hour ago, I still felt invincible. So I started to shout back at her – the first time ever. _I put my life on the line for you! Why do you think I went to Afghanistan and Iraq? I put my ass on the line for you and everyone around here!_

 _I didn't ask you to!_

 _Of course you didn't, but that's what I do! I'm doing it to keep you safe!_

 _Like on the day, when mom died?_

That blow hit me. Hard. And she didn't even feel sorry for it. She just kept going.

 _You were there for everyone but me. You'd rather save everyone else but just to stay at home with us._

 _Kim…_ I didn't know what to say.

 _It's too late dad, you had your chance and you blew it. You can't make it undone what you fucked up over the course of twenty years._ She tried to slam the door into my face, but I held it open. Once more I tried to say something, but I found no words.

 _Leave dad, just go._

I had no other chance than to leave.

* * *

I looked at the door that Hernandez had left open. I couldn't remember what exactly I had told them last night. They had asked my some questions about my life, about why I had come here and about my home. I vaguely remember telling them about that conversation with Kim… that was all they had wanted to hear. Me, talking about how fucked up my family life was. I guess I told them, word by word, what she'd said to me. Who would have ever thought that my worst fight with my daughter would once save me life, because it had burned itself so deeply into my subconsciousness, that I'd remember it, being under whatever drug they had given me to make me comply.

I desperately needed a shot. My hands were shaking, my mouth dry and my stomach already cringed, telling me it had been some hours too long since the last fix.

I grabbed the shirt that they'd ripped off me the evening before and put it back on to cover the bruises of the last beating, before I made my way back over to my room in Ramon's building. Soon after I had closed the door behind me, the bedside table, with its uppermost drawer, with the little black envelope stared at me.

But right now, all I could think of was Kim. I sank to the ground, leaning against the door and stared back. It was the first time since I'd started to do this that I thought of quitting. In the past three months, I had thought of everything else, the mission, being credible, getting Ramon's trust… but now I could only think of her. What would say if she knew?

The withdrawal symptoms started soon after. But my guilt was stronger and told me to stay away.

It was the first time for me to go through withdrawal. But not the last.

* * *

As the day when I finally killed Ramon was over, it overwhelmed me just once more. My last reason to be on that self-destructive path was suddenly gone – and I knew that I had to face withdrawal again, and this time also reality. The door to go back into my old life was suddenly wide open, and all I had to do was go through it. But it meant that I'd have to sort out the mess that my life had become.

I still remember sitting in the car, crying. I was so glad that nobody else was there, nobody to judge me or talk to me about how fucked up everything was. I tried to keep the thoughts and emotions at bay, but that all overwhelmed me.

As I already thought the worst part was over, Kim suddenly opened up the passenger door and got in with me. I saw her in the corner of my view, but I didn't even look at her. Instead, I just kept leaning over the steering wheel, burying my face in my arms not to let her see my cried out eyes.

When she laid her hand at my back, I really jerked.

 _You always go back for more, don't you?_ she asked me.

I turned around to her and looked into her eyes _._

 _You're putting your life on the line, dad, risking everything, your life, your body, your health… you'd just have to turn around and say you quit, but you never do._

I knew what she wanted to tell me: when would I ever stop with this?

We looked into each other's eyes, in silence. I wanted to tell her so badly that I was done with all the field work, that I wanted nothing more than to go home with her, sit down on the couch and talk to her or play a game of chess like we had used to.

 _I saw a movie on TV, some weeks ago,_ I began, _about_ _a soldier in Iraq, he counted the days until coming home… as he was finally back home, he stood in a store, all family relations almost fucked up beyond repair, his wife sent him to get something to eat and they showed him standing in that store, staring at the things... he couldn't decide, he couldn't handle those easy things any more._

 _I guess I saw that one, too,_ Kim told me. She seemed to understand what I wanted to tell her with this. I was just like that one. I had no idea how to get back into a normal life, after getting further and further away from it. It frightened me even to think about it, to spend a day without a gun, or to let go of the drugs.

 _Just a few weeks later he signed up for another tour of duty, because he couldn't handle the normal life._ I hoped that she'd understand. When I saw that scene, I was so vividly reminded of all the times that I went back into hell, voluntarily. Because it had always been the easiest way out.

 _So you're gonna go back to field work?_ Kim asked, her voice shaking.

I shook my head. _I don't want to._ I leant back into my seat and wiped the tears off my face. _I had never wanted to go back, not one single time._

 _Why did you do it, then?_

I shrugged. _I guess it was the easier way than to say no. Not having to face all the problems that there were between your mom and me… I've got so many horrible pictures inside my head, Kim, I can't even imagine lying in bed, at home, having time to think about all that happened and all I've done._

 _And what are you gonna do now?_

I didn't answer at first. I took my time to think about it. As much as I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that I'd quit the field work and be there for her, do some boring job which wouldn't bring me into any danger, the words just wouldn't leave my mouth.

 _I don't know yet,_ I finally said. I could feel how disappointed she was. I couldn't stand to see her like this, it nearly broke my heart.

And that was the moment when I got out of the car and just walked away. I regretted it in the very moment and in every second thereafter. But staying there would have been unbearable, just like the thought of a simple, normal life with some time to think about all the things I had done in my life, so far.

* * *

 _thanks for reading,  
amacma_


End file.
